Sometimes, I Bleed
by Spykester
Summary: “You make me bleed. You make me scream.” A character explains his feelings for another, with surprising results.


**Sometimes, I Bleed. **

**Disclaimer: **Characters property of JK Rowling. Twisted story by me. Harassment by the FBI. 

**Author's Note: **I make no apologies for the fact this story has absolutely no plot whatsoever. That is all. 

**Summery: **"You make me bleed. You make me scream." A character explains his feelings for another, with surprising results. 

**Spoilers: **A minor one for _Order of the Phoenix_. 

**Rating: **R – for slash of the m/m variety.

There are many words one could use to describe me as a person; the general populous would see most of those as extremely uncomplimentary. Because they are meant to be so yet I take them as compliments regardless. Cold, spiteful, malicious, just plain mean, I know them all by heart. They are almost a litany but I do not chant them as such. I just like being different, even if it does mean being hated by default. 

You are the only person who ever managed to hurt me, you see. You have done it more than once. My hate for you consumes me, bleeds me but there is something else present there now too. I am not foolish, I know what it is but I am not sure if I actually like it or not. 

However, do they not say that you walk a fine line between love and hate? I used to think that was some kind of idealist rubbish, spouted by people trying to see something in a beloved who did not return their affections that simply wasn't there. 

It would seem that I stand corrected. 

It would not be the first time where I have been proven sorely mistaken. 

Such as my belief that death was a beautifully macabre thing – ah yes, such a twisted mind I have. Or, like to think I have. I never considered what it truly meant to murder someone or indeed to see one murdered. I just assumed it was some great thing, the ultimate power to wield (that is actually very true, if you can actually enjoy torture and murder and I do not). 

Life and death. I choose life and I will pay for that sooner or later when _he_ finds out that I have absolutely no intention of choosing Voldemort. Don't get any ideas, I will not join your pathetic little 'Dumbledore's Army' either. I'm staying neutral, playing it safe. 

So that makes me a coward? Yes, perhaps. Hardly a surprise though surely? He who flees lives to fight another day, or not as the case may be. Running away, always a viable option and in my view the smart one. Think what you will, I honestly couldn't care. 

I digress from my point however. 

Some nights I think of you, dream of you. Sometimes, it makes me bleed because you will never want me the way I want you. All I ever see in your eyes is hatred, whereas mine now reflect both hatred and lust in their grey depths, usually as hard and unyielding as granite to stare into. 

When I want to hit you, make you bleed as my desire for you causes me to shed blood, I also want to slam you against the dungeon wall and fuck you till you bleed anyway. That desire satisfies both my needs and it requires all of my well-cultivated self-control to not act upon my darkly lustful thoughts. 

Ha! So now you know what is really going on in my mind when I glare hatefully at you and your companions. I suppose it horrifies you and terrifies you. It's rather arousing actually, to think of the emotions what you are hearing invokes within you. 

You keep your countenance a solid mask though. I applaud you for that. It's a hard thing to master, I should know better than anyone after all. 

You want to speak? Go ahead. 

Of all the things I was expecting from you, I did not expect you to surprise me. Oh, and did your confessions surprise me all right. 

I have always been aware that you are not the human perfection many delude themselves into believing you are – oh no, you've got some real fire in you. I have experienced it first hand after all – whenever you have struck me, that's the dark side of you showing and I long to see it again. 

You do not disappoint, Potter. 

But your attack did surprise me, not least because you pressed your searing lips to mine in a kiss that burned with the very fires of hell where surely our lust was born. The true existence of hell after all is designed to bring ultimate despair to those who are banished there – and there is no greater despair than wanting what you cannot have. 

Or more precisely – what we _thought_ we could not have. 

As you savagely tear away my clothing, I dimly realise how wrong I have been this time, more than any other. But there's no time for me to feel stupid about it, not when you have taken me into your mouth and are doing things to me I only ever imagined in my most heated and far fetched of fantasies. 

It does also indicate that this isn't your first time, however there is no time for me to ponder it. Or feel angry that yet again you have beaten me to something. As if you have read my thoughts you suddenly stop just as I am about to reach my release and smirk smugly up at me – surely an expression you have learnt from me. 

How flattering Potter. 

Our joining is even better. I curse you a thousand times for having me so completely at your mercy yet I secretly enjoy it more than I'll ever let on. 

You make me bleed. You make me scream, over and over. It's a miracle nobody has discovered us but we both are past caring. Your screams match mine and it's glorious to hear. 

Maybe next time I'll have you at my mercy… 

That's when my eyes snap open and I find myself staring balefully at the green canopy of my four-poster bed. A dream. It's always a dream. This was one of the worst kinds, because it was so very, very _real_. 

It feels like a betrayal of sorts, if that makes sense. 

But I don't cry. A Malfoy does not wear their heart on their sleeve and years of careful construction of the walls of ice that make up my personality see that even now I do not shed a tear in spite of my inner despair. 

I turn over in a vain attempt to go back to sleep. It's not that I am not tired; I'm exhausted actually (who wouldn't be after a dream such as that?) it's more that I fear going to back to sleep in case I dream. 

I fear you'll be there again. 

I fear you'll make me bleed again. As you often do. 

I shut my eyes and the whole world dissolves to black. 

To nothing. 

~Finis 


End file.
